As the 275,000 students who attend CUNY’s 26 campuses across New York City do their part to stem the spread of the coronavirus by isolating themselves in their homes, they still have much to do. School’s still in session; it’s just moved online. And critical to any student’s success is something that has nothing to do with academics: Sustenance.
Below, 15 journalism students at Hunter College share how they’re feeding themselves during this extraordinary time. By turns hilarious and poignant, these micro-reviews offer a glimpse into the lives of others, at once apart and united by a shared experience none of us could have fathomed before now.
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From beneath my heavy comforter, I brace myself for the air about to hit my legs. I slip my feet into my slippers and exit my room. It seems like it’s been years. I open the stocked fridge to see multiple beverages and nonperishable goods. Problem is, I wanted a meal. — Sarah Bhawanidin
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I’ve been in this place before, staring at the inside of the fridge with my dog at my feet, not knowing what to eat and only wanting to eat because I was bored. It’s a few minutes past 3 in the afternoon and eating is the only way to break up the time between sitting in front of a screen and sitting in front of a screen again. My head hurts and the light inside the refrigerator makes it worse. “Vegetables,” I think. “Vegetables will make me feel better.”– Virginia Anne Dundon
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After taking the tag off of an apron I bought three months ago, I decide to take on the impossible task of making buñuelos and empanadas, the cuisine of my native Colombia. After an hour and a half, with a dozen pans, plates, and utensils filling the sink, and baking powder splattered across the counter, my family sits down to breakfast. Within 15 minutes, we’ve scarfed everything down, and realize this is why we hate making food at home. — Maria Puerta Hincapie
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A New York Times article, “How to Stock Your Pantry,” convinced me to buy every dry food item the grocery store still had in stock — pasta, dried fruit bars, single-serve packets of nut butters. I place three slices of frozen whole-wheat bread on a paper plate to thaw as I knead a packet of nut butter. I squeeze it out, its slimy consistency and light brown color telling me I had not mixed the oil and nuts evenly. I spread the butter around, careful not to use too much—I do not want to have to return to the store. It’s thin; it doesn’t even reach the crust. I take a bite anyway. The nut particles grind between my teeth; it tastes of oil and vanilla bean. I offer the third slice to my nephew.
“Do you want a bite?” I ask.
“No,” he replies. — Janet Hernandez
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At least it’s vegan, I think to myself as I prepare a PB&J with tasteless, refrigerated bread. You will never find non-vegan spreads in my household…not with my mother doing the shopping. What’s missing is a palate cleanser, the perfect drink to pair with PB&J — chocolate almond milk. I pour a glass. Not too thick, not too thin. Not too sweet, not too bitter. It’s just right. Like Goldilocks, I savor my lunch. And just like that, it’s over. — Donika Lleshi
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The Oreo. Two black chocolate cookies with a sliver of sugary white filling sandwiched between them. The best-selling cookie brand in the United States, Oreos are a staple for any avid snacker. What else would I stock up on during a global pandemic? Real food? Please. — Catherine Abano
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There are only so many ways to make a meal out of an egg. Today, I decide to dress a pair of scrambled eggs with unevenly cut slices of hot dog placed atop a plump roll. I season my sandwich with refrigerated ketchup packets. I pour myself a glass of orange juice, emptying what remained of the first of three bottles my family had stocked up on. I dig in, and once I hit the middle of the sandwich, the suspicious meat and chilled ketchup strike a perfect balance with the scrambled eggs and roll. I’ve reached the flavor peak of a 4-step meal. — Jose Suarez
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After waking up to a Dunkin’ Donuts email advertising a generous 100 points “when you order ahead with the Dunkin’ App,” I know exactly what I’ll be eating for lunch. I get up, quickly check on my avocados’ ripening status, and head out the door. I stop off at CVS before heading to Dunkin’, mobile-ordering an everything bagel seconds before entering the store. Moments later, my sad substitute for a New York bagel arrives on the pick-up counter, and I head back to my dorm. — Elizabeth Jankovic
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I unwrap the cold and rigid snack from its plastic packaging, slip it into the intended paper cover, and pop it into the microwave. After two minutes, I take it out and go for a bite. The taste of the melted cheese and soft doughy bread whisk me away to memories of middle school summers, when my sisters and I would devour these processed miracles. I take a sip of Coke from a metal straw. As I alternate between bites and sips, I eventually finish my meal. That Hot Pocket goodness still lingers. — Tenzin Chime
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My spoon is suspended in the middle of my oatmeal. A shovel in the middle of my bowl waiting to scoop the sweet cinnamon lumps that had formed overnight in my fridge. I heat it with a splash of almond milk in an attempt to melt it into a more palatable cream. Pouring it from a pot into a mug is like trying to get a kid into a car seat. The gobs sit on my spoon and melt when they enter my mouth like thick sugar clouds dissolving into humid air. A drop falls onto my pants. A sad dollop, as if it’s given up. I’ve been wearing these pants for three days. Time to transfer them to the hamper. — Krystie Calle
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I reach into my fridge and pull out two bags of cold cuts. Boars Head mortadella and provolone cheese is a classic Italian combination. To change up the Sicilian style, I decide to put the meat and cheese on a hamburger bun instead of semolina bread. If you’re Italian, this kind of food gets really boring really quick and you need to change it up. Under quarantine, everything gets really boring really quick.
After a lifetime of making sandwiches, I strike the perfect meat-to-cheese ratio. No complaints there. However, there are no compliments either. — Bianca Mistretta
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Day three of social quarantine, and having exhausted all other options, I resort to eating the Whole Foods’ frozen dinner version of vegetable pad Thai. It dawns on me that I have nobody to blame but myself, really. The food that was supposed to last me a week is almost gone. Then a second thought: when the world returns to normal, I might have a future in competitive eating. — Ryan Bain
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For lunch I am down to nonperishables thrown onto a greasy platter. Corned beef, biscuits, and bacon. The corned beef comes from a can, an anemic mound of pink mush. The biscuits are Pillsbury, not homemade. The bacon is the most organic food on the plate —a standard medium-thick slice variety, applewood smoked as a bonus. It’s by no means unpleasant, just very, very unhealthy. But also simple, and homey. — Marc Carganilla
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I let my frozen burrito slide out of its cold plastic wrapper and clank onto a plate. I sigh as I put it into the microwave and watch it rotate.
My brain feels nearly empty right now. Being at home for so long gives me little to think about besides exactly that: I’m at home. It’s the same thought over and over again, a never-ending cycle of “When will this all be over?”
Eating during this unsettling time has proven to be just another pastime. I remember my grandma used to say to me, “You’re not hungry, you’re just bored.” I think I finally understand what she meant.
When the microwave beeps, I open it and retrieve my burrito. It has burst at the seams. A mix of rice, beans, and cheese all conspire to create an oozing, pinkish goop that looks as if it’s already been chewed. This definitely won’t satisfy my craving for Chipotle. — Natalie Rash
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I hold the cup in my hand, almost afraid to open it. This is my last cup of yogurt and if I open it today I have to savor it. I don’t know when I’ll be able to have another yogurt. This was the last one at Trader Joe’s and I snatched it up before anyone else could. I peel back the tinfoil and the yogurt beneath is perfectly smooth and white. I dip my spoon in and taste the tanginess first; my mouth puckers. Soon the creamy vanilla takes over. I think for a moment how nice it would be to have granola, its crunch offering texture to the yogurt. But alas, the store was sold out. I take a sip of coffee and am reminded of home, of sitting at the kitchen table with my parents, our cups in hand as we would talk about our days. As long as I still have my coffee, I think, everything will be okay. — Gabriella Vetrano
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